“Jesus,” Will said. “You don’t half talk bollocks. I know you, Kim Secretan. I know how you scoured England to find me when I was locked in a room, and how you lied up hill and down dale to get your hands on a paper and then handed it over anyway because it was the right thing to do. You ripped yourself apart for fear of hurting Phoebe, you gave up your ticket out of this mess for me, and you think you’re rotten? You stupid bastard, you’re true as steel.”

Kim made a noise in his throat. Will grabbed for him, and Kim scrambled around, and then he was over Will, kissing him frantically through sobs, shuddering in his grip. Will kissed him back while he could, and held on tight to his heaving shoulders when Kim collapsed on his chest.

Maybe all he could do was be the port in Kim’s storm, but that was what he’d do, for as long as it took.

The storm blew itself out in the end. Kim buried his face in Will’s now-wet shirt; Will took his weight and stroked his hair while his breathing evened out.

At last, Kim lifted his head a little. “Ugh. Once again, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Will said. “Stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault. And stop thinking I’m about to walk away, because I’m not. I—”

“No, no, no,” Kim said over him. “Don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need you to be able to walk away. I know what you’re like. If you made me any promises, you’d feel bound to keep them, come hell or high water.”

“I thought you wanted that.”

“I don’t want you bound by words you later regret because you think I need to hear them now. It isn’t fair. When we have a degree of certainty about what my position will be, you’ll have the information to decide yours.”

“Any reason I can’t take my own decisions for myself, when I want to?”

“Because I’m not the only one having a rotten time here,” Kim said. “Please, Will. If you can’t stand this, I don’t want you to force yourself through it.”

“Fine,” Will said. “I promise. I promise I’ll just bugger off whenever it seems like the easy way out for me, and leave you in this hundred-room hellhole with your family rubbing cheese-graters on your nerve endings. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I detect a note of sarcasm.”

“Take a step back, Kim. I’m a big boy now and I can look after myself. You concentrate on what we’re going to do if I’m not allowed to beat your brother to a pulp.”